


forevermore.

by 95liners



Series: everhold. [2]
Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Blood, Gen, Multi, Sequel to 'Fractures', Technology, Violence, dream vs reality, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 22:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17496266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/95liners/pseuds/95liners
Summary: Taeyong is not broken. He's just ...fractured.Johnny and Yuta are thrust into a mess that was long coming, and it all centres around the one boy they've loved more than love itself.Taeyong Lee is important, and they will save him.[sequel to 'fractures']





	forevermore.

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> **trigger warning for this chapter - vomiting.**  
>   
> 
> hello! i, uh, did this!
> 
> this series is very quickly becoming my baby, but i will endeavour to update my other stories as well! as of right now, though, only expect updates for 'facilis descensus averno' and 'inexplicable love'.
> 
> still, we got the sequel! make sure to read every forenote for the chapter's trigger warnings!
> 
> i would highly suggest reading ’fractures’ first, as this is set the very next day!
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

  _ **** **YUTA**_

 

It’s been a day, and Yuta can still feel tears pushing at his eyes, marking his cheeks and choking his breathing.

He’s a mess; Johnny had noticed it last night, when he curled around his body in the dead of night, lips pressing to his nape.

_(It felt too wrong for him to do that, not after what Yuta had remembered. He’d pushed him away and buried his face in his pillow until Johnny had returned to his own bed)_

The younger boys notice it, too, with Chenle – sweet, little Chenle, only eleven years old – crawling onto his lap that morning during breakfast. With soft pokes to Yuta’s cheeks and a whispered _“it’ll be okay, Yu,”_ , Yuta knows that the other boys of his unit, the nineteen boys that he has been with ever since entering the SM-ENT compound, care for him.

He also knows that their little crew isn’t complete, because the leader of them – the one who’s been there from the beginning, collecting each broken soul and helping nurse them back together again – is locked away in the compound, tortured out of his mind.

The mere thought of Taeyong’s sobs that day, how it’d felt reverberating through Yuta, is strong enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes again. He sniffles and furiously wipes at his cheeks, pulling his knees to his chest and trying to stifle his emotions. He doesn’t have long – having taken a break from manufacturing classes, pretending to be sick.

At most, he has a few minutes left to gather his wits and emotions, return to the studious but cheerful Yuta Nakamoto that the compound had fostered him into.

That he wasn’t, not in the slightest, not now.

 

“Mr Nakamoto?”

Yuta nods as he walks back into the classroom, all traces of devastation wiped from his demeanour. He’d taken a minute to don his usual cheeriness, washing his face, and skipped into the classroom like he’d just spent ten minutes in the infirmary and not sobbing his heart out in the bathroom.

“You’re okay now?” The teacher, Sir 72 – they don’t have last names, at least the recruits don’t know them. The adults in the compound are very mysterious, with only titles and numbers -, asks again, Yuta nodding and sitting down. He straightens his books and nudges his seatmate, Seungcheol, under the desk before smiling up at Sir 72.

His smile stretches painfully, and he can’t help but feel rage and despair bubble in him when he remembers seeing Sir 72 seated in the dreaded room, preparing to send Taeyong – his Taeyong, his and Johnny’s Taeyong – into another nightmare.

“I’m fine, Sir 72. Reporting back to Manufacturing II at … thirteen hundred hours.”

He sounds stiff – does he sound stiff? Yuta thinks he sounds off, but Sir 72 just nods and marks it down, before turning around to return to his work. Seungcheol budges him back, though, and sends him a _look_.

Seungcheol is like that.

 _‘I’m fine,’_ Yuta mouths back, grinning reassuringly, but it doesn’t feel real. Still, it gets Seungcheol off his back for now, though Yuta knows he’ll have to avoid the S-V-T unit later unless he wants Jeonghan and Joshua on him as well.

Thinking about those three, now that he’s aware of Taeyong, suddenly sends daggers through him again, and Yuta spends the rest of Manufacturing II trying desperately not to break down once more.

* * *

Johnny is gorgeous.

Yuta is so lucky to have him, he has forever spent his days thanking every deity above for his boyfriend.

Now, however? He just wants Johnny to leave him alone.

“Yuta – baby, are you okay?” Johnny’s knocking on the door to their room – their shared room with four other people, which is empty right now because their unit, the N-C-T unit, is meant to be having recreation together on the field.

Yuta knew Johnny would follow him, but that didn’t stop him from slipping away and hiding on his bed to cry a bit more. He’s been shaky ever since Manufacturing II, and he feels lost, and broken –

The door opens slowly, and Johnny quietly locks it behind him as he makes his way over to the younger male. Now, Johnny can see just how messy Yuta feels; his eyes are rimmed red and glossy, his breath is trembling, and he looks exhausted and _ruined_.

“Oh, Yuta,” Johnny breathes softly, reaching out to hold his boyfriend’s hand, and Yuta flinches violently. He whimpers softly at the hurt spreading across Johnny’s face, fighting the pain coiling in his body and slicking over his skin to reach forward and grab Johnny’s hand.

_(He knows what he’s done, what Johnny’s done, to their baby. Yuta doesn’t know anything else but that anymore)_

“I-I’m sorry,” is all Yuta can whisper as he trains his eyes to the ground, valiantly fighting back his tears. He’s cried too much today, he doesn’t want to spill anymore, but his body doesn’t agree as fat droplets slowly trickle down his cheeks. Johnny makes a soft sound of surprise and reaches to wipe them away, hesitating. When Yuta doesn’t pull away, just sighing sadly, Johnny’s thumb gently swipes up the liquid and dries his boyfriend’s cheeks.

“What are you sorry for, sweetheart? Did something happen?” Johnny sounds so _worried_ , his tone tearing Yuta’s heart in half, and he can’t stop the sob from escaping him. Yuta pulls his knees to his chest, dropping Johnny’s hand to wrap around himself and cry quietly into the fabric of his jeans. He can’t – he can’t do this, he can’t think about _him_ , or he’ll – he’ll –

Yuta is jumping to his feet, stumbling into the bathroom attached to the room, and he’s on his knees throwing up into the toilet before he knows it. He vaguely registers Johnny behind him, rubbing his back and pressing his lips to the nape of Yuta’s neck.

All Yuta can see as he empties his stomach contents is Taeyong, curled up on his side and sobbing so brokenly last night. All he can feel is the pure sadness wracking through him, through _Taeyong_ , and he throws up again and again until there’s nothing left.

Yuta feels guilty, feels the oily clutches of it clawing up his throat and choking him, and he just wants to cry and scream and hold his boys together and push them away at the same time – he wants to forget the memories that plague his waking moments, of how Taeyong would smile at him and how he’d kiss Johnny. Yuta wants to go back to the days where he didn’t know Taeyong existed, where he was happily oblivious to the torment of the other boy.

Instead, Yuta is left clutching a toilet bowl, sobbing over a love he’s lost in the arms of a love he doesn’t think he knows anymore.

* * *

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Yuta looks up as he hears a voice – Doyoung. The younger male, sixteen years old, is one of Yuta’s roommates and a N-C-T unit member. He’s sweet, but also sharp in wits and even sharper in tongue. He’s someone Yuta treasures deeply, but someone that the teenager does _not_ want to see at all right now.

Doyoung is one of the few that works alongside Yuta in the Manufacturing schemes, in the courses that the classes they take gear towards. They’re two of the scientists that are involved with ‘neuro-hallucinogenic manufacturing’, chosen as they are a part of the top five in all Manufacturing classes and show immense skills.

Doyoung is also the one who had fastened Yuta into that damned chair, connecting the nodules to him and helping measure his vitals as he watched the older male go to work designing the ‘mind-scape’ for Taeyong to face horrible nightmares.

Yuta’s obviously out of it, because Doyoung snaps his fingers in front of his eyes and looks unimpressed. He shakes himself out of his stupor and manages a small smile, hiding the exhaustion from his breakdowns earlier.

“Sorry, what was that? Didn’t hear you, bunny.” Doyoung scowls at the nickname, one that is well-known throughout N-C-T, but he pushes on to ask Yuta again.

“Are you ready for tomorrow? We’re doing more mind-scaping. I think we’re testing Johnny’s tech again?” Yuta pales at that, but he brushes it off with a shrug and a noncommittal grunt.

“Should be fine – just finishing up the report,” Yuta murmurs, showing Doyoung the paper that had been pushed to the side on his desk. It was relegated to the side the night before, and Yuta hasn’t touched it since, but he knows it needs to be completed before his round tomorrow in the mind-scaping. He just … doesn’t want to acknowledge it at the moment.

_(At all)_

Doyoung frowns again, reaching for the paper. He snatches it out of Yuta’s grasp before the other can grab it, reading over the blank spaces with tight lips and a fierce gaze.

“Get your shit together, Yuta,” Doyoung snaps when he finishes, pushing it to the older male. “We have to be ready tomorrow, or they’ll kick me off the team. You _know_ I’m only _probatio_ right now, and I know you’re practically indispensable now, but me? I’m sure as hell _not_.”

“Of course,” Yuta mutters as he grabs his pen – sleek and expensive, a sixteenth birthday present from Johnny only some months ago. Doyoung watches as Yuta begins to write, marking neat sentences that accurately and concisely depict his experiences with the equipment, with the other scientists …

His hand falters when Yuta hits the question about _‘the subject’_. Doyoung’s eyes narrow slightly, and he leans over to gently guide Yuta’s hand down to the paper. Yuta inwardly sobs as he answers the question, writing how he had _‘reacted well, movements in his room vaguely reflecting his movements in the mind-scape.’_

“There, I’ll be back tomorrow at noon to get you, okay?” Doyoung sounds softer now, gently patting Yuta’s shoulder, before he’s leaving and closing the door behind him.

A single tear plops onto the paper, before more follow it, and Yuta is sobbing again. He feels his stomach clenching, his throat closing up, and he’s shoving the paper back before he’s stumbling to Johnny’s bed and collapsing on the neat sheets. His boyfriend had left earlier, attending to his evening jobs of watering the compound’s gardens, so Yuta feels no remorse for messing up his bed as he frantically pulls out the plush teddy that is hidden under his mattress. He buries his nose in it and chokes on his tears, hugging the child’s toy closer and collapsing against Johnny’s bed.

“T-Taeyong-” Yuta whimpers, sobbing even harder at the boy’s name. He can already see him in his mind’s eye, present Taeyong overlapping with his memories of Taeyong. To see his boyfriend, years younger and grinning as he ran across the green fields in the outskirts of some town. Chasing and jumping onto Johnny’s back, kissing his cheek and grinning so _beautifully_ at Yuta.

Yuta gasps as his heart constricts painfully at that, a grinning Taeyong replacing itself with a bloody and beaten Taeyong. One who had gone through the worst torture in a particular mind-scape, stumbling into a fictitious fighting ring and almost dying just to find his boyfriends.

His love for Johnny and Yuta … Yuta doesn’t want Taeyong to ever find them ever, or he’ll realise just what they’ve done, but he wants his baby back with him.

He wants them to all be together again, but Yuta doesn’t at the same time – he is a mess of contradictions, and all he knows for sure is that he is in pain.

Not as much as Taeyong, though, and Yuta will _strive_ to never forget that.

Instead, he’s shakily pulling Johnny’s blanket over him and falling into a restless sleep. Yuta needs all the energy he can gather for tomorrow.

For when he sees Taeyong again.

* * *

“26, report.”

Yuta looks up at the robotic hand in front of him, hands over the piece of paper silently, and watches as the paper disappears through the robot and transfers to the men situated behind the glass on the floor above them, looking down on the scientists like it’s an operating theatre.

He’s lost in his thoughts, worrying at the gloves on his hands, until a comforting presence appears behind him and a familiar touch is gently pressed to his waist.

Johnny.

“Come on, baby – I’ll get you strapped in,” he murmurs softly and guides Yuta to the chair in the middle of the room, at the head of a large desk. Nodules hang off the contraption carefully, and three monitors can be seen on the screen embedded into the desk.

Yuta shakily inhales as Johnny pulls the chair out, letting Yuta settle himself at the head of the desk and look up at his boyfriend. He can physically feel himself shaking, but steels himself. Yuta is – he’s a _scientist_ first and foremost, he needs these results and he needs to finish the experiments.

He needs to ruin Taeyong.

The mere thought has chills rocking through Yuta, but everyone is watching – Sir 72, Doyoung, Johnny, the higher-ups that determine whether Yuta will stay in his prestigious position. They’re all watching, and as Johnny sets him up and connects him into the program that helps enhance the mind-scape manufacturing, Yuta wishes he was anywhere else.

“Remember, sweetheart?” Johnny whispers, crouching down next to Yuta and holding his hand. He has to leave soon; his job of recording the data Yuta gathers firsthand and formulating it into comprehendible documents taking him from the ‘theatre’. “If it – if it starts to hurt, or something feels weird, you press the green button twice and it’ll shut down. You with me?”

Despite everything in him that wants to scream and sob, that wants to push Johnny away for devising such horrors for Taeyong, Yuta still smiles softly and knocks their foreheads together gently. Everyone give the two their moment, for Yuta to close his eyes and breathe slowly.

He may hate what Johnny’s done, what _he’s_ done, but he loves Johnny still. His boyfriend doesn’t … shouldn’t remember anything, and Yuta can’t demonise him for hurting Taeyong when he doesn’t even know who he _is_.

“I’ll be fine, my love,” the younger male whispers, letting Johnny stand up and prepare to leave. “I can handle anything.”

Johnny leaves him with a warm smile and a wink, letting Yuta sign into the desk and bring up the screens. Immediately, videos load up – one screen shows a collection of vital signs, recording for two individuals. Another screen is blank, preparing itself to display the mind-scape layout as soon as it’s designed. The last screen …

Yuta takes a moment to see Taeyong through the live feed, quality crisp and clear enough to show the teenager curled on his mattress. He’s tracing mindlessly on the floor, head pressed to the cover-less pillow crumpled between him and the wall.

He looks … awful, now that Yuta looks further. Taeyong is gaunt and pale, with bony fingers and even bonier limbs.

_(He can’t imagine how sunken in his face must be. Oh, how his baby has fallen so far)_

“26,” Yuta looks up, looking around at the scientists situated at desks. Everyone here is now under his control, under the Manufacturer’s hand. He used to love the power he had, never abused it, and revelled in the responsibility he had been given to design Taeyong’s nightmares and test his reactions. Being such an important figure at the tender age of sixteen, going on seventeen, was revolutionary in the compound.

Yuta had loved it. Now? The mere thought of it makes him want to be sick.

“26, are we ready?” It’s Doyoung speaking, now that Yuta focuses once more. Doyoung is one of the people closest to him in the room, showing that he works more with the Manufacturer than the others. Doyoung is his control; he keeps an eye on Yuta’s vitals in case the male is too preoccupied, and he pulls him out of the contraption if needed.

Yuta nods, feeling the nodules pull as he moves, and taps on his screen. Immediately, live feed-Taeyong sits up straight, looking around as he clutches his mattress tighter, and the distressed gasp he makes travels through the camera and out of speakers in the room.

Yuta’s heart clenches, but he pushes on.

“Ready the simulations,” his voice is steady, steadier than he thought, and carries prominently throughout the room. “Beginning Test 116, time eighteen hundred hours. Subject … Taeyong Lee.”

People in the room immediately begin tapping on their screens, either measuring vitals, designing the basic coding for the hallucinations or recording data on both Yuta and Taeyong. Yuta opens up the blank screen and closes his eyes, letting his imagination run wild and correlate to what the program is designing.

Images fill the blackness; rolling fields dotted with sunflowers, warm breezes rustling tall leaves. Earth cracking in two, fire ravaging nature …

Yuta’s eyes open and he sees the image; scorched fields under a blazing sun, with fire burning in one horizon, a broken cityscape in the other.

Taeyong on the live feed wakes up slowly, but his movements are sluggish and he is visibly unaware of his surroundings.

Taeyong in the simulation wakes up, scrabbling at the ground and gasping loudly. He clutches his throat and coughs, before stumbling to his feet.

“Experiment 116, now underway.” Yuta’s voice is finality, carrying through the room, and all he can feel asides from the professionalism that overtakes him on every job …

… is pure guilt.

* * *

_He wakes to darkness, heat, and pain ricocheting through his head._

_That’s all there is for the first five seconds of consciousness – the suffocating blackness that surrounds him, coupled with his awful headache and hot earth scorching his clothing._

_Soon, his eyes adjust to the environment, and he realises it’s day. There’s nothing around him, but he can just make out that he’s curled up on burnt ground, that there is a fire raging in the distance and settling a blanket of heat over him, and that his name is Taeyong._

_Taeyong. It rolls off his tongue – Korean, he must be Korean._

_He is Taeyong._

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive me for making yuta cry so much, i got carried away.
> 
> leave a comment with some things you enjoyed, or whatever made you cry.  
> \---  
> find me on twitter!
> 
> leave me something in my curiouscat!


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